


Timestamp: Scritches

by incendiary1 (trycatpennies)



Series: Lupus in Fabula [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trycatpennies/pseuds/incendiary1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is needy. Takes place after Lupus in Fabula</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timestamp: Scritches

“You know just because you’re a werewolf doesn’t mean you actually need to take on such canine characteristics, right?” Peter’s tone is wryly amused. He doesn’t stop scratching Neal’s head though, fingers tugging and pulling gently at his hair. 

“This has nothing to do with being a werewolf. This has everything to do with how amazing it feels,” Neal answers, lazily. He pushes up into Peter’s fingers, sighing contentedly. He’s spread out across the couch, his head in Peter’s lap. El’s sitting on the floor, laptop on the coffee table, papers and schedules spread around her. There’s a sitcom re-run playing on the television, dialogue barely audible since Peter had turned the volume down so El could concentrate. Neal’s pleased. 

“If you were any happier right now, your tail would be wagging,” Peter grumps, and Neal tilts his head back, opening his mouth to pant saucily at Peter, tongue lolling out. Peter huffs out a sigh, and gives Neal’s hair a gentle tug.

“Be good,” Peter warns, and Neal closes his mouth, because Peter’s tone is straying into an order from an alpha, and Neal’d rather not push him that far. Not tonight anyway. He pushes back into Peter’s hand again though, makes a pleased noise when Peter resumes his scratches. He loves this, loves being touched like this. 

Neal lets himself drift, lets his eyes close. He listens to El muttering to herself, and then asking Peter a question. He listens to them speak, doesn’t pick up on most of what they’re saying; he’s dozing and they’re keeping their voices low, and the drone of their conversation is nearly as soothing as the Peter’s hand on his head. 

Neal wakes up when El shakes his shoulder, gentle. Neal looks up, she’s smiling softly down at him, and when he cranes his neck further he can see Peter’s fallen asleep sitting down, hand still in Neal’s hair. Neal reaches up and touches El’s face, loving, before disentangling himself. It’s late; definitely past when the three of them should have gone to bed. Peter blinks awake once Neal’s standing, and he stretches. Neal watches the ripple of muscle under Peter’s tshirt, and then smirks when Peter raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Bed, boys,” El insists, and she tugs Neal’s hand. He winks at Peter and follows her placidly, listening to Peter a few steps behind, footsteps dragging a little, from being so recently woken.

It doesn’t take long for the three of them to strip down, Neal’s own limbs sleep heavy. Peter looks the same, his movements lazy and easy in a way he rarely is. El’s a little faster, but she’s still taking her earrings off when the boys tumble into bed, Neal wrapping himself back around Peter, nuzzling his head into Peter’s arm. 

“More,” Neal demands, and Peter doesn’t offer even a token protest, just drops his hand to Neal’s head and starts petting. It’s good, and better even when El curls up on the other side of him, pressing herself against his side. Neal loves being in the middle. Peter’s hand slides to the back of his neck, and he scratches there, light. His blunt fingernails barely mark, and he’s not being rough, eyes still closed, body relaxed, mostly half asleep. Neal looks up at him, and the next scratch is a little harder (not deliberately so, just- hits the right spot) and Neal groans, watches Peter’s face change. He doesn’t open his eyes, but Neal can feel the shift in energy, smell the tension. 

It hadn’t taken Peter very long to figure out that Neal’s got triggers, and Neal always takes it for granted that Peter knows each and every one of them, and doesn’t hesitate to use them to his advantage. Neal bucks his hips forward, whining softly when Peter’s fingers dig deliberately into the back of his neck.

“More,” Neal repeats and Peter tuts at him, and Neal can feel El smile against his shoulder. He tries again. “Please?”

Peter sighs, indulgent and he scratches again, and El runs her fingernails over Neal’s side, just hard enough to pink the skin and Neal groans, ducks his head into Peter’s chest, trembling. They’re so good at this, at taking him apart. 

“We’re not having sex. It’s late. We have to work tomorrow,” Peter cautions, and Neal knows better than to argue, just nods his head against Peter’s chest, kisses him, just below the nipple, silent thanks. “Good boy.”

The praise is accompanied by another scratch against his neck, and a long drag of El’s nails against his back, from his shoulderblade to his ass, and then she runs her hand back up over the marks, soothing. She kisses his shoulder and repeats the scratch on his other side, pressing her hand against the heated skin. 

It’s not even about sex; he hasn’t gotten to tell them this, they’re still drowning in the three of them, in pack, in running the moons, and fucking when they can, and spending weekends tucked on the couch and lunches chatting about nothing. They’ve been busy just being together. 

So it’s not just about sex, it’s about touching. It’s about Peter’s hand squeezing the back of his neck, the alpha power inherent in the gesture. It’s about El pressed against his back, carefully hurting and comforting at the same time. It’s about feeling them around him, exactly how they are. His. And him, theirs. 

El’s hands still, her mouth pressing gentle kisses against his skin and Peter gives his neck one more squeeze before he goes back to stroking Neal’s hair, gentle. They’re all half asleep again, Neal’s body tensionless and his breathing steady, curled between El and Peter, the three of them tangled up in each other.


End file.
